the clouds are whitest at night as I pretend cricket rasps change their shape. My illicit cigar, a scent of bourbon in my empty glass, dog's fur under hand, a filament for numb fingers fumbling while cicadas sing.
the clouds are whitest at night as I pretend cricket rasps change their shape. My illicit cigar, a scent of bourbon in my empty glass, dog's fur under hand, a filament for numb fingers fumbling while cicadas sing.